Songs of Christmas

One of my bosses plays Christmas songs all year long. I may be the only one there who gets it. I've been playing them since October. Last year, I went as far as to attempt to write one of my own (with a little help and inspiration from Franz Gruber).

Most carols' melodies are timeless. They are usually easily transposed and best of all they beg for harmony. Some of the first songs a child learns are Christmas (or other holiday) songs; even non-musical families sing during yearly, family gathering type holidays. The songs become a part of you, ingrained into your very being. Even if you hate them, you can't forget them. They are as insidious as an infectious pop tune. So give in, indulge in the guilty pleasure. "Because you need a little Christmas, right this very minute. You need a little Christmas now."

How to enjoy the holiday season

Top 10 ways to enjoy the holiday season:
10. Skip a boring party because you "had to work late". Won't work for the annual company soirée.
9. Tell the hubs there's nary a smooch until all those presents are wrapped.
8. Bring a bottle of fancy coffee flavoring syrup to share at the office. Lace it with vodka.
7. Tell everyone Robert Earl Keen wrote "Merry Christmas From The Family" about yours.
6. Volunteer with a charity. "Sorry, I didn't have time to..... I was volunteering!"
5. Two words. Internet shopping.
4. Every cookie you bake takes food from a pastry chef's starving child's mouth. Buy them.
3. Ditch the stigma. It's not re-gifting, it's GREEN gifting!
2. Screw the budget, hire a housekeeper & a caterer. It's your Christmas present to yourself.
And the number one way to enjoy the holiday season....
1. Hop a freight, go away. Go far, far away.

Don't think about the words

Don't think about the words. That's the only way I can make it through most Christmas carols without choking up. It's like singing at a funeral or a wedding. The emotion has to be kept at a safe distance, with just enough creeping through to convey the credible, heartfelt warmth for which those situations call. Perhaps it sounds cold, but the alternative is rafts of sniffling singers with tear-stained cheeks blubbering their way through every sad or joyous occasion imaginable. But Christmas? Holiday songs did not always make me cry. Actually, I'm not quite sure when the phenomenon began. One year, I picked up my guitar, started to sing Silent Night, and before the end of the second verse, I had begun to turn into a puddle. Silver Bells, an innocuous ditty about shopping, lights and bells, same thing. O Holy Night was like a burst levee, as was It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. What changed? Why was Christmas twisting a knife into my heart? So I worked on the distance. Now I can sing and play carols for hours on end with hardly a tear. Unless I think about the words. Because sometimes, especially at Christmastime, you just have to cry.

Christmas Romance

When they coined the phrase "hopeless romantic", they may have well been describing my love affair with the Christmas season. My romantic vision of Christmas seemed to evolve over time. Elements of my childhood like cookies, music, snow, a live tree and intricate wrapping of each present with curling ribbon mingle with literature and pop culture to include caroling, mulled wine or a goodly port (thanks, Charles), decorating the house with golden ribbon, crystal and candles, parties, entertaining, watching It's A Wonderful Life, and gazing at the twinkling tree. I know I expect too much out of the holidays, and yet I'm still let down when they inevitably fall short of my lofty imaginings. Classic Christmas blues. But as a hopeless romantic, I continue to try, to believe, to still want it all. This year is the first in quite a few that we've put up a full size, 'real' tree. The living room smells like a pine forest, the LED's are twinkling away, and treasured ornaments were hung with care. It's a wonderful start. Maybe this year.......

Strange weather

Indian Summer came late. In shorts and a camisole, I contemplated the bare trees standing like skeletons on top of the ridge, silently begging for snow. Too many days of rain knocked down the last of their leaves, then swelled the river into thinking spring had returned. Flash floods covered paddocks and fields. Streams invaded parks and basements. Deer, chased from the forest by the encroaching waters, littered the highway in a bloody mess. An unseen heron left his gliding shadow on the swollen stream. What was this strange season residing between the full moon and Friday the 13th? And what did it mean?

Do you consider it an art?

Pictures. Photos. I could play all day between the camera and the "darkroom" that is my computer. It continually amazes me how photography has changed. When I first started getting serious about photography as a hobby, my boyfriend (now husband) was patient and encouraging. While I already had an artist's eye for composition, I had to learn how to translate that vision to the reality of film. He'd give me assignments to help me understand aperture, shutter and film speed, depth of field, light metering and even filters. He bought me a good SLR and turned me loose. Every frame, I thought to myself, is this worth the film? I missed many a shot trying to be judicious and thrifty. Now, with the miracle of digital photography, we can click wantonly. It's not always a good thing. Sometimes I think that the art is forgotten in the desire of the moment, as well as the craft. Perhaps it is time to take a step back to basics. Is this shot really worth the megabytes? Is it still an art? Or is it just a craft?

George Washington Carver Day

I always dig the whole living history thing. Part drama, part history; when it's done well it really makes the subject come alive. A few weeks back, the Missouri Botanical Garden hosted their annual George Washington Carver Day. Paxton Williams from the Carver National Monument in Diamond, MO came to the garden and did a fine job of portraying Carver. He took us on a tour of the garden, talking about "his" life, teachings and discoveries. The walk ended in the Carver Garden, a 2005 addition, complete with a fountain, statue and natural amphitheater for teaching programs or just relaxing and listening to the flowers. Oh, you don't think flowers or plants can talk? Or that you can talk with them? Then you need to stop by the library and read about George Washington Carver. He wasn't just the peanut man. He was a gardener, an artist, a musician, a spiritualist, a botanist, an inventor, an environmentalist, a humanitarian, a poet, a teacher, and yes, a scientist. And pretty decent theatre.

When did October go?

The days of autumn are all but slipping away
When did October go?
My colors are fading into a mixed muddy brown
Where did October go?
The rain hasn't stopped for almost fourteen days
When did October go?
Wet leaves are slippery like the ice will soon be
Where did October go?

Why did I let it leave?
I kept trying to say good bye.
How could I let you leave?
Without giving it one more try?

Dark skies will shatter under lightning's flash
When did October go?
The stars may be hidden but the moon peeks out
Where did October go?
You're only but a shadow in my memory
When did October go?
I try to remember so my mind can see
Your face as you turned to go.

Driving the view

"Living it down just enough time to revel
When you're driving the view
The pace looks up when the burn goes down
Time and again when you're driving the view"1

Son Volt is a great autumn band. Maybe it's Jay's often dark lyrical imagery. Or his use of minor chords that melt into momentary major glimmer. Maybe it's their music's ability to break your heart while you smile; the juxtaposition of rhythm and emotion. Try as I might, it's nearly beyond explanation. You just have to feel it. Drive down highway 44 through the brilliant death of foliage with Son Volt and the fall wind washing over you. Then you'll know.

"May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away
Both feet on the floor
Two hands on the wheel
May the wind take your troubles away"2

1. Driving The View - Jay Farrar
2. Windfall - Jay Farrar

Autumn has captured me

People will say, oh, my favorite season is summer. Or spring or fall. Or how they hate winter. My favorite season is...... all the above. As a season winds down, giving way to the next, I tend to mourn. There is never enough time to enjoy it. I beg for one more snowflake, one more crocus, one more firefly in the warm evening. But then I give in to the joy of the new season and it becomes my favorite. Autumn has fully captured me now.


Every day on my drive to and from work, I pass through huge hills and river valleys. The trees are ablaze with color, turning my commute into a kaleidoscope. It is a joy. Air is crisp and fresh. Frost has nipped the grass. I dream of apples, pumpkins and mulled cider. An October picnic spent warming in the sun will melt away any chill, so will a fire and some port. I want to take it all in, I know it will be gone too soon. And my favorite season will change, again.

Farm Aid 2009

"Hello... We're Wilco. And we're here for the party as well."

Farm Aid was worth every precious penny, even with the astronomical service fee charged by Live Nation. Phosphorescent played to glowing reviews. Lukas Nelson (yes, Willie's son) absolutely blew everyone away with his searing Strat work. Jason Mraz managed mass audience participation in broad daylight. Gretchen, well, she was there for the party. Then there was Wilco.

Yeah, I'm a rabid Wilco fan, so my views are tainted. It was far from the best performance ever; it's hard to get a vibe goin' when you only have time for a few songs. But they definitely played to the St. Louis fans. Jeff actually claimed his local Belleville heritage, even though a bit tongue-in-cheek. (Not much difference than the rest of us.) "Heavy Metal Drummer" is like a polaroid from my, and many in the crowd's, past. And even though he's not a redneck as a gambling song might imply, Tweedy and friends rocked local fave "Casino Queen". "Hoodoo Voodoo" was a fitting ending, considering Woody Guthrie's lifelong crusade for the common man, and who is the backbone of these, if not the family farmer? Perfect choice.

Dave (does he even need a last name any more?) and Tim did their duet thing. Tim always mesmerizing on his D-35, Dave always.... the head of the cult-of-Dave. No one likes Dave Matthews a little. You either don't get him, or you're a follower. Plenty of followers in the house. Many left after his set. Their loss.

John Mellencamp probably had the best set of the evening. It had been years since I'd seen him and he doesn't seem to have changed all that much. High energy, belting it out, Miriam Sturm's amazing fiddle, and that weird song ending air punch thing. The audience sang on all the old songs, especially closer "The Authority Song". It was a crowd that's been with him since this Cougar days, and they love him still.

Uncle Neil was our conscience. He ripped off his Stop Factory Farms shirt (a wardrobe malfunction) to reveal a Go Family Farms one. "We need our farms back!" He shouted. Willie joined him for "Homegrown" and the haze began to rise from the crowd. But as much as Neil Young was the conscience, he was also the beauty. The man has written some of the most simple and gorgeous melodies and heartfelt lyrics in rock history as evidenced by his set ending number, "Comes A Time." More than one tear did fall.

It wouldn't be Farm Aid without the Willie Nelson wrap up. 76 and gliding through those wacky jazz runs and inverted chords like a monster. I stood loose-jawed, staring at the jumbo screen. His face may be craggy, but his eyes are always a-sparkle, his hands move like flowing water, and the hits just keep on coming. It's a patchwork crazy quilt kind of thing, one song begets another and another, bumping into the next in disjointed yet oddly coherent fashion. Not quite a medley, more of a stream of consciousness set, but it's Willie and so it works. By the end of it all, the stage was full of any and everyone "still left" on site for the feel-good gospel & Hank Williams sing-a-long. Sadly, Neil and Hank's D-28 couldn't make the finale. Even so, all in all, and all day long, it was one hell of a show.

Bon Iver Sunrise Graveyard Concert

I love Bon Iver. I love graveyards. I love sunrise.
I hate that I could not be there to experience all three.
Haunting melodies creeping on the fog through headstones
just as the sky blushed.
Amazing. Surreal. Inspiring. Perfect.

Bloody Angry

This work of art says it all for me. It was not called Bloody Angry, but it should have been. When the mood strikes, this is a perfect depiction of anger emerging from the darkness of my troubled mind. Or maybe just a portrait of pissed off.

Sometimes you just want the conspiracy to be done with. Stop with the demands, stop with the needs, stop with the wants, stop with the being nice. Stop with the have to, stop with the should do, stop with the could you. Just stop.

Let me hurt, let me be angry, let me find a way to take care of myself and heal.

Dan Fogelberg - Love In Time

Imagine my surprise to find how many people out there "get" Dan Fogelberg. The internet is an amazing thing. True, there are the rabid fans, the women for whom he is/was an "idol". But then there are the people who found something more in his music, his art and his actions. A preacher in Dallas, a NY Times Sports writer, a sound engineer, an IT professional, other musicians, a best friend. I have run into countless of these folks in the last few years, chatted with many and forged friendships with quite a few. It's amazing, really, how this man brought so many together.

Now, by the grace of his widow, Jean, he brings us together again. I won't retell the heart wrenching story of how this posthumous release came to be, but I will say that he put it together himself as a completed musical project before his death. This is not the cutting room floor stuff that many record labels scramble to scrape together and release as a post-mortem money maker. This is Dan. Hopeful and reflective, full of imagery and emotion and in love. So in love.

I remember an interview I heard or read once where Dan was asked why he rarely spoke publicly about his life. He replied something to the effect of how he didn't need to, if you listened to the songs, it's pretty much there. And it is. Couched in artistic license and the poetry of great lyric, but the story of Dan is still there. The girl who's heart he never won, championed causes, nature and spirit, family, divorce and finally, true love. "Love In Time" is for all of us, but it was really for Jean. Hers was his love in time.

Wrapped Around The Equinox

The last day of summer hid behind gray clouds
Mourning the loss of its season
Skies shuddered and wept and moaned out load
Praying for a a final reprieve
But in the mist of the equinox all daylight escaped
Leaving no regrets to linger
And the darkness of night fell as soft as the rains
Like a blanket of comfort and calm.

The first day of autumn rushed in with the dawn
Blinding and orange all bright
Summer returned as if it had never been gone
Coaxing mist from the river's rise
While the sun played its game of trick the season
Leaves were attempting to turn
For time wrapped around the equinox just teases
And glimpses what is to come.

Mary Travers, my first folk hero

When I was six, Sister Mary Joseph, in full Dominican habit, sat cross-legged on the floor with her first grade class strumming an old classical guitar and singing.... "I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor and I don't like it very much!" We giggled and squealed with delight. Then she sang "Puff The Magic Dragon", which I'd heard on the radio, and I was totally hooked. Throughout that fall, if we were especially good, Sister would open up the record player and put "Peter, Paul and Mommy" on the turntable. Through the magic of music we went to the zoo (zoo, zoo), had a song to sing (O!) and learned the mystery of "The Marvelous Toy".

When I saw PP&M on TV, it was so exciting! I wanted to be Mary Travers. I wanted long blond hair. I wanted to sing. I wanted to sing with boys! Then I heard the other songs. "Leaving On A Jet Plane", "If I Had A Hammer", "Blowin' In The Wind", "Lemon Tree", "Stewball". I learned them all. A few years later, when I began to play guitar, I learned them all again. When I heard that Mary Travers had passed, memories of all those songs and how much they meant to me and taught me in those very early years, flooded back. Somehow, I just don't think I'd been the same person had I been raised on Barney. RIP, Mary, and thank-you.

Feeling a bit prickly

Some days are prickly. Everything sort of rubs the wrong way, claws are out, hissing is only moments away. But like thorny plants and puffed up cats, it's just a defense mechanism against unwanted intruders. Deep within there's a soft center.

The cactus wren is not deterred by the spines of the saguaro, it depends on it. Goldfinches thrive on thistle. Once past their sharp exteriors, there's sweet blackberries, soft rose petals, and fragrant honey locust blossoms. Beyond my moody, prickly, stress hides a girl who really just wants a snack, a pillow and a nap. Nothing personal.

No one puts Baby in the corner

Dirty Dancing is one of those movies that every time I run across it as I'm switching channels, I have to stop and watch. Johnny is a little bit dangerous, quite a bit older, strong, handsome and has a good heart. Yet he finds himself falling for the little bit geeky, quite a bit awkward, not-pin-up-model girl. And they dance. It was an ugly duckling's dream. Even though I was already married and well into my 20's when Dirty Dancing hit the screen, it was magical nonetheless. I never became a rabid, uber-fan, but that character made me keep track of Patrick Swayze. There were good films and bad, cult classics, and TV. Outside of his profession, he lived away from fame's trappings on a ranch surrounded by horses, laughter, nature and his wife of over 30 years. He fought the good fight until the end and his death saddens me. Safe journey, Patrick, God bless.

Labor Day

How to have a perfect Labor Day: Sleep late, wake slowly to slants of sunshine falling through the blinds. Sip coffee, read all the paper, such luxury. Spend too much time in the shower, skip the hair drier entirely. Take a long walk, photograph everything, anything. Contemplate the papyrus; do others find them to be the fireworks of the garden? Enjoy tea. Read my book on the patio, fall into a delicious nap. Sip some wine while cooking dinner for friends, something easy, quick and fresh. Eat slowly, revel in conversation, share more wine. Do nothing stressful, do nothing hurried, live within each moment, enjoy it all.

Reflections

Reflections on water of angels
Unseen in the sky by day
And of spirits cast like shadows
Of clouds the eye does not see

But the heart knows

The moon pulls me as if I was the tide
Shows me the shadow's secret
It is a burden just to hold
Magic no one else believes

But the heart knows